Legacy of the Caller
by Celebwen Telcontar
Summary: A Unicorn brings Marcus back from the dead. Marcus Susan. If you don't like it, don't read it. If you do like it, please review. No flames, please.
1. Default Chapter

Legacy of the Caller

Chapter One: Caller's Revival

Balrog: A long time ago, in a Galaxy far, far away...

Estelgilwen: Can it, fire-breath! This is Babylon 5, not Star Wars!

Balrog: What? I like Star Wars though!

Estelgilwen: And neither I nor Celebwen likes it, though.

Balrog: Grrr...

Celebwen Telcontar: Holds bucket of water threateningly. Balrog squeals and runs.

Estelgilwen: Well, that was interesting.

Celebwen Telcontar: Turine Echome is mine, and so are the People. The Callers are mine, save that they are/were/would have been their own people. JMS owns all B5 stuff, and I own the ships that the People use.

Okay, a little background on the story:

In the beginning, we have the People on their planet in their galaxy. The People are mythological beasts and peoples, i.e. Elves, Dwarves, Centaurs, Unicorns, Dragons, Pegasi, etc... The People are being chased by a nastier-than-Shadows-and-Vorlons-put-together race called the Eilie. The Eilie are intent on exterminating the People, and so the People are running from them. They have a Caller, who is their spiritual and battle leader, who has not been found in over a thousand years. That person is a Human virgin, with the power to Lead all of the People at all times. Whew! I hope that gives you a bit of a description better than the other one over on the title page! --C. Telcontar. P. S., please review!

The city of Turine Echome was bustling with activity. The planet would be evacuated in a few days time, the people never to return. Casaflurna daughter of Casarunia ran lightly on the gold and ivory streets, dodging through traffic to get to her home. The Unicorn mare paused at the opening to her stable, breathing heavily.

"Casabanora!" she cried. Her filly ran up, a beautiful mare in her own right.

Yes, Mother?" the younger mare asked.

"Casabanora, I want you to promise me that you will be a good leader to the People of the Galaxy. You are now their leader in full. I am only the leader of the Winddancers now."

"Leader of the— Oh, Mother! No! The Winddancers..."

"Yes, my filly. The Winddancers. I am glad to dance with the wind of our fates, and give myself to the People."

"Mother! The Winddancers are our last defense against Eilie, though! Are you sure you want to give your life, your essence, your very soul to the People?"

"As all Winddancers do, I will give my life protecting the People. Take care of them, Casabanora, my filly. Keep my work up, and Seek the Caller. You will know Her by Her beauty, purity, and grace. She will be a Winddancer who has not yet gone to the Elysian Fields."

"Yes, Mother. I will lead our people. Are there any last instructions I will need?"

"Yes. Guide our People well, and do not let their Light fail. Return to the Galaxy of the Callers, and appoint a good crew. Take the Cabanunal, for she is state of the art. Take as many civilians as you can, and the other ships you should take are the Corabana, the Lichamere, the Gulaminea, the Wavenural, and the Portashuta. They are all state of the art, and you will not need to appoint crews, for they already are there. Now go! The Eilie are gaining!"

"Fare well, Mother, until I meet you on the other side of the Fields."

"Good bye, filly." Casaflurna then laid her horn across her filly's mane, and gave the younger mare a light nudge with her nose.

"I love you, Mother."

"I love you too, my lovely, beautiful, glorious filly. Stay strong." Casaflurna then ran off to the Port, where she would be given her personal flyer, and, using her magic, be able to help destroy the dreaded Eilie. Casabanora then cantered off to the Cabanunal, where she would be launched, with the other five ships, into space, and be able to find the Caller finally.

Casabanora stamped her hoof restlessly on the metal floor. "General Comadan, will you please go faster?" she snapped. The Elf looked at her, then at the controls, where he fed his own personal magic into the machine. The Unicorn mare looked at the rear console, and shuddered. The Eilie were approaching Home Galaxy, and were beginning to frighten her.

"Lichamere to Cabanunal, over," called one of the other Unicorns piloting the Lichamere.

"Roger that, Lichamere. What is it, Marcalumourne?"

"Casabanora, the Gulaminea has just been destroyed. By the Eilie."

"Caller take the Eilie and throw them into the Tartarus! Casalurea was on that ship!"

"Your sister?"

"Yes, Marcalumourne son of Marienarunia, my sister."

"I am sorry, whatever consolation I can give will be yours."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you are too much like the Unicorn of the Son of the human named the Dragon?"

"Yes, I hear that a lot. Uther's Stallion, they used to call me. And you are like the child that received near death at Rebel hands, and nobody knew whether she was alive or had been killed as a human filly!"

"Marcal, shut up!"

"Lichamere signing off."

"Marcal, I didn't... Oh, hell!" Casabanora muttered, kicking the bulkhead.

Susan Ivanova, Earthforce captain of the EAS Avalon, paced her quarters. It was too closed in, and too much of a reminder of her former life right now. She needed to get out of the blue uniform, and into some civvies, then go to a bar and get hopelessly drunk. She settled for the next best thing: run to her stash of vodka, and crawl into the bottle. But no, that would be the easy way out. And the best, save her mother's way of suicide. She began to remove a glass from the cupboard, and filled it to the rim with vodka. She threw the liquid into the back of her throat, feeling the searing heat of the alcohol hit her stomach like a ton of bricks.

When she began to loose feeling in her face, she stripped off her coat, and flopped down onto the couch. This was becoming the only way she could sleep, by using alcohol as a way to drown out her problems. She felt sleep take her, and welcomed it with open arms.

The next day was a bit hectic for her. She awoke to the blaring of her alarm telling her of her appointments for the day, and that she had a message from her Commander.

"Captain, the Avalon has picked up a huge disturbance coming our way. It looks like a ship, only one I have never seen before."

"Crap!" Susan roared, throwing on her uniform and running for the bridge.

When she got to the bridge, she found that the new ship was the most beautiful she had ever seen. It had a sleek silvery hull, engraved into the pattern of feathers. The ship looked like a huge bird of prey, with a long crest spilling from its head, and a lengthily neck. The belly of the ship looked to be a good ½ mile across, and the wingspan was at least five miles. The head itself was huge, measuring what looked to be about an eighth of a mile. The beak was gaping, and the feathers slowly faded from silver near the bases to a blazingly brilliant red at the tips, making for a glorious show of plumage. The crest and tail had golden feather shafts, and the eyes seemed to be the windows for the ship. A second ship, more battered, came to rest beside the first.

"EAS Avalon, this is the Cabanunal. We are attempting to hail you. Do you read us? Over," called one ship.

"Roger that, Cabanunal. What are your call numbers and what is your cargo? Over," Commander Reginald replied.

"Our Caller's Number is 17,856. We are still Seeking for Her to lead us against the Eilie. Do you know where we could find the planet known as Earth?"

"Why do you want to know?" Susan asked.

"Because the Caller is of that planet, and though She has never been there, She may be traced by the footsteps of Her predecessors and Her ancestors."

"How would you do that?"

"Would you and a few members of your crew care to see the instruments?"

Casabanora flicked her tail as she looked at this woman, this Susan Ivanova. There was something of the Caller flickering around the edges of her vision when Casabanora looked at the woman's face, and it stayed. It was as if the Caller had given Her essence to this woman. But how could such a thing be? How could one give one's essence, one's very soul, over unless one were a Unicorn and did it out of love? Was such a thing possible?

Casabanora used her magic to still the doubts swirling around this woman's head. If the Caller trusted and loved this woman enough to give Her life over to the woman, shouldn't the People trust her and Her Choice? Perhaps this was the Caller's daughter. That would be enough to trust the woman. Could that be? Could this be the Caller's daughter? There was only one way to find out. The Unicorn mare probed the captain of the Avalon. Her brain was troubled, and locked off. Ah, she was a Telepath! Among the humans, it must be a feared thing, for the woman had an adversity towards fellow telepaths, especially those called Psi Corps. How strange. Among the People, it was a gift given by the Caller Herself to Her most trusted guards. Casabanora suggested gently that this Susan come aboard with her most trusted guards.

"I will board your ship, with a few men," Susan replied. She called up about four guards, and the Cabanunal sent over a shuttle piloted by a witch named Featherstar.

"Casabanora, this woman... who is she? She feels strongly like the Caller, and is starting to confuse me," Marcalumourne said quietly. He had come over to the Cabanunal when Casabanora make the connection.

Suddenly, Susan arrived on deck, and the old stories of the Unicorns and the Humans Partnering became clear to Casabanora. She felt a swift tug on her soul, and they were bound as one. If Casabanora were to leave, then Susan would follow, no question. Susan gasped, and nearly screamed.

_:Easy, Susan. No need to be frightened. I am Casabanora, the captain of the Cabanunal, and this is Marcalumourne. He's slightly crazy, but he will not harm you.:_

"What?! Why are you talking telepathically to me?!" Susan cried.

"Because of the fact that you may be more used to us speaking telepathically than using our vocal cords," the mare replied. Susan no doubt felt the bond, and the sanctity and protection it provided. "With the bond that came between us, you will never be able to be scanned without the permission of both of us, or I will set the Sanctified Blaze of the Caller's People on their nerves and veins."

Susan felt the purity of the creature standing before her, and felt a pang in her heart. She felt lonely, and halved. Then, something came and linked itself to her living half, and gave her hope and love. Then, the worst possible thing happened: she began to receive telepathic speech. She hated telepaths! The Psi Corps had killed her mother and many of her friends! She would never join them!

_:Easy, Susan. No need to be frightened. I am Casabanora, the captain of the Cabanunal, and this is Marcalumourne. He's slightly crazy, but he will not harm you.:_

"What?! Why are you talking telepathically to me?!" Susan cried.

"Because of the fact that you may be more used to us speaking telepathically than using our vocal cords. With the bond that came between us, you will never be able to be scanned without the permission of both of us, or I will set the Sanctified Blaze of the Caller's People on their nerves and veins." Susan felt the mare's surety, and also her purity. She would definitely follow this mare, her friend, her cushion in the days of hardness and bitter cold.

_:Ah, I see. Your Soul Mate has perished. I cannot help you, but I can assist in easing the pain. Will you allow me to try? I cannot fill that spot, nothing can anymore, but I can help to ease your agony. Will you let me, Partner?: _Susan realized that she was crying when one of the crewmembers, one that looked shockingly like a Tolkien Elf handed her a handkerchief.

_:Soul mate? Who? Marcus?: _Susan asked, telepathically, with a sob. Her crew members looked at her as if she had grown another head.

_:Marcus? Is he the one you are longing for? Send me a visual image of him, please. For your soul mate, I see a man with black hair to his shoulders, a moustache and goatee, with bright green eyes, a dark outfit with silver accents, and a long, retractable quarterstaff,: _Casabanora said quietly. Susan broke down and wept into the Unicorn mare's mane.

_:Yes. That's him. He gave his life for me...:_ Casabanora's head shot up like a rocket. She gave a high pitched whiney of shock, and looked pointedly at her friend, Marcalumourne. The stallion stared back, just as shocked and confused.

_:This Marcus, what was he like?:_ the stallion asked softly. His voice was low and noble, with a light British accent. Susan buried her face in the mare's neck, and cried harder, whimpering her soul mate's name over and over.

_:From what I can tell, he was noble and pure, a virgin, and a warrior. He had all the qualities that are best suited to Calling, and all that He lacked to be the most pure Caller ever born is the fact that He was male. If He was female, then we would already know of His existence, and have run off to His side. Her soul mate was the Caller, no doubt. I will be in my quarters with her should you wish to speak of this more. But I would advise you not to speak of the Caller while my Partner is about. She is still sensitive to the subject, since she has been bottling up her emotions since her mother perished by her own hand. I will be going now,: _Casabanora said to her friend. The stallion whinnied in approval, and disappeared. Then, Casabanora touched her Partner with her nose, and used her magic to teleport both herself and Susan to her quarters.

"Casabanora, what is this place?" Susan asked tearily, looking around the room. The scarlet cushioned couch like thing at one end of the room, along with the very low table with food and water bowls puzzled the Captain.

"These are my quarters. I would have had a second set of quarters attached, but I did not know I would be Partnered. If you would like, I could get you a set of quarters all your own that are identical or near so to the Elves. I apologize for my lack of education, but until recent years, Humans were considered a mythological race, to tell to young foals as bedtime stories. I never dreamed that I would be _living_ with a myth as my Partner!"

"It's quite alright. Do you have any vodka here on board?" Susan asked, longing for her old habits.

"Vodka? What is that?"

"An alcoholic drink."

"Ah, no we don't. But we do have mulled wine, red and white wines, ale for the Dwarves: I believe that it has a fairly strong taste, and some other spirits. But no Vodka."

"Oh. I think I'll take some of the ale. I have had to use alcohol to get to sleep since before I met..."

"Hush, now. It's not as bad as all that. Well, maybe it is. I've never had a soul mate before, so I don't know how you feel. But my mother died just recently, she joined the Winddancers, a sort of Kamikaze group of our militants, which give their lives fighting the Eilie. My sister was on the Gulaminea, a ship taken by the Eilie. She was probably tortured and killed by them."

"My mother committed suicide when I was five, and my brother died in the Earth-Minbari war. I don't like to talk about it. But then again, I don't like to talk about much. You've changed me in ways I don't fully understand, Casabanora."

"Partnering has always been said to change people for the better. Are you hungry? I could have some sort of meal made for you. I do not know what humans eat, and so I apologize for the lack of food or beverage."

"I am hungry, but I am wondering if I can get back to the Avalon for tonight at any rate. My crew is going to need me, and I have food over there."

"Alright. General Comadan can keep the fort down for tonight at least. I will join you tonight on the Avalon, since you probably will need my support. If we separate too quickly after the Bond has been formed, then both of us will die."

"Okay, if you feel as if it would kill us. I would feel better with you with me, anyways, Casabanora."

"Good. I'm going to pack my traveling mattress and my food, since you probably wouldn't have Unicorn food on board the Avalon."

"I don't. Nor do I have the type of mattress you would sleep on. By the way, is your mattress comfortable?"

"Very. I wouldn't mind you joining me. In point of fact, it would be very relaxing for both of us, since we are just newly bonded." The mare then pointed her horn at a small door that Susan hadn't noticed, and fired a beam of light at the closet. It opened, and a large pad about the size of half of Susan's living room tumbled into the space. It then shrank to the size of a hearth rug, and a pair of ivory bowls was attached to the rug-sized mattress. The objects then lifted themselves and settled onto Casabanora's back. "Do you want to walk the league to the bridge, or do you want me to carry you, or would you like to lend you telepathic powers to me so that we can teleport straight from here? The entire section is shielded against teleporting, and since the ship was slightly damaged in the flight, I can't teleport out of here any more."

"I'll lend you my telepathy," Susan said quietly. She placed her hand on the Unicorn's neck, and her friend and Partner managed to drag out some of Susan's telepathy. Then, the room span, and they were in Susan's quarters.

Marcalumourne returned to the Lichamere, and began to practice his battle techniques.

Suddenly, he stopped, and looked through another's eyes. The world was a fairly deep shade of red, the color of the inside of one's eyelids when they were closed and looking at a bright light. Stray thoughts filtered into the mind, and he knew that this was no ordinary man!

_:Did she survive? Did it work? Is she alive? Where am I?: _the mind thought murkily.

_:Who are you?:_ Marcalumourne sent, careful to keep any thoughts of Casabanora or Susan out of his mind.

_:Hunh? Who? Wha... :_

_:I am Marcalumourne. Who are you?:_

_:I... I... I am... who I am. I can't tell now. Maybe later...:_

_:Hmmm. Do you remember anything?:_

_:I...I did, but...it's...gone. She's... gone. Where am I?:_

_:I don't know just now. Hang on, I'll try to do a trace on your signal. Just hold on, and keep talking.:_

_:Funny. I remember that... they... couldn't get me to shut up... now you ask me to ...keep ... talking... funny. Stephen...will laugh...:_

_:Stephen. Tell me about Stephen.:_

_:I... I don't remember. All I remember is... her face... like an angel...beautiful... cold and beautiful...S...Susan. Susan something...:_ Marcalumourne all but leapt halfway in the air. Could this be the Caller? Could it possibly be Marcus, the Marcus that was Susan's soul mate?

_:Hold on. What's your name?:_

_:An...Anla... Anla-Shoc.:_ the mind thought back. The stallion nearly wept with frustration. This wasn't Marcus! This was his Partner, Anla-Shoc. He might be human, but probably not. He would have to contact Casabanora and tell her that he had to find his Partner, who was suffering from a severe case of amnesia. Well, no time like the present.

_:Keep talking, Anla-Shoc. I don't want to loose you now. Describe something to me, anything!:_

_:En...Entil...Entil-Zha...brown hair...green eyes...bone crest...can't remember...:_

_:Okay. Casabanora!:_

_:What is it, Marcal?:_

_:Casabanora, my Partner is suffering from amnesia. Can you ask Susan whether there is a race with brown hair, green eyes, and a bone crest?:_

_:Sure.: _Casabanora stopped eating to ask Susan.

"What? Does he mean Delenn? Delenn Sheridan? Ask him," Susan replied, confused. Who would be suffering from amnesia and the first thing in his mind is Delenn? Did something happen to John?

_:Marcalumourne? Is this thing's name a Delenn? A delenn Sheridan, whatever that is?: _There was a lengthily pause, and the stallion's voice returned, more puzzled than ever.

_:He started speaking in a different language. Something like Prophet-Leader, or something like that. Directly speaking, he said Entil-Zha. His name is Anla-Shoc, from what I gather. I'm leaving this area soon so that I can get him. He isn't the Caller, and so I will return with him, hopefully healed enough to help us out.:_

_:Okay, Marcalumourne. I wish you speed and success.:_

_:Thank-you, Casabanora.: _

"Okay. Marcalumourne said that his Partner said Entil-Zha was this thing's name. His name is Anla-Shoc. Does that mean anything to you, Susan?"

"Yes. Entil-Zha and Anla-Shoc are Minbari words. The first is the name for the leader of the Rangers, and the second is the term for the Rangers themselves. Delenn is the Entil-Zha at this moment."

"Hmmm. Who could it be? It isn't the Caller," Casabanora mused.

"It could very well be any living Ranger in the galaxy. They all show allegiance to Delenn first and foremost, and then to their other lives. But... But he would think of me first, I know it..." Susan whispered, in an agonized voice. Casabanora nuzzled her Partner's cheek, and nibbled a lock of the distressed woman's hair. Susan wrapped her arms about the Unicorn's neck, and rested her head against her friend's neck.

"It's okay. I'm here for you, Susan."

"I haven't felt this bad since...since...since he died. I still love him, so much that it hurts, burns, aches, every time someone reminds me of him. You say that half of my soul is missing, and I feel like that," Susan wept.

Marcalumourne pushed the Lichamere as fast as the phoenix-shaped ship would go. His Partner was not doing well, that was for sure. He couldn't remember anything, and what he did say was useful to trace the man. He paced the deck restlessly, his tail flicking in anxiety.

_:Anla-Shoc, are you still there?: _

_:Yes. Who are you?:_

_:Marcalumourne son of Marienarunia, at your service and that of your families. Now I'll need you to keep talking, say anything that comes to your mind, so that I can track your soul and find your body to try and heal you.:_

_:Face like an angel, carven of fine porcelain, hair of the most elegant silk, spun of gold and copper. Eyes bluer that the deepest sapphire, and a soul as cold as ice. Her name...Susan...So beautiful, so cold, I...I love her so much...Did she survive? Is she alive? Am I dead? I don't understand...John will kill me. So will Delenn, Stephen, Michael, Zach...They all will kill me.:_

_:Why so?:_

_:I did something stupid. I am renowned for making stupid mistakes.:_

_:What did you do?:_

_:I used the alien healing device to save Susan's life, at the cost of my own.:_

_:Are you sure your name is Anla-Shoc? That's a title, after all.:_

_:No, my name Marcus Cole. That was it.: _Marcalumourne bugled in triumph. This _was_ the Caller, after all! He leapt, literally, with his joy. Just thinking of what Casabanora would say gladdened his heart. Susan would be happy again, he was sure of it. Soon, he saw a reddish planet come into the view screen, and he knew that the Caller, his Partner, Marcus Cole, was there.

"Reftamune, keep the ship safe. Esya, Enegmana, Flamedancer, and Windermere. Come with me." The two Elves, the Centaur and the Dragon came at his call, and soon he had left with them.

Marcus was simply asleep, or so it looked. Esya, the loyal Elf-maiden, was keeping the doctors safe and preoccupied with looking at her genes and nervous system. If that failed, then Enegmana, an Elf-lord, would come, and if that failed, then would come Windermere, the Centaur. After that, Flamedancer, the Dragon, would be sure to keep them occupied. And then it would be a long time before the doctors would be sure to leave them alone.

Marcalumourne pressed the tip of his horn to the Ranger's shirt, and drove forward until he pierced the man's heart. His energy, his essence, his ability to heal and renew spilled forward and into Marcus. The man coughed and rolled over before sitting weakly up.

_:Marcus, I am here. I will never judge you, nor will you fear of loosing me. I will always be there by your side, my Partner and almighty Caller. We shall never be parted, and shall share the bounty of life,: _the Unicorn said quietly. He nuzzled his Partner, and convinced him to climb onto his back.

_:Marcalumourne, it isn't working. I can't hold their attention much longer. I even spat flame at an inanimate object!: _Suddenly, there was a gasp.

"What...Who...Marcus?!" A man with dark skin, dark eyes, and short, wiry black hair stared at the Unicorn.

"Stephen!" Marcus cried. Then, Marcalumourne had had enough. He teleported back to the Lichamere, and cantered to his quarters.

Susan felt a strange tug, and Casabanora lurched to her feet. The mare whinnied, and Susan placed her hand on the Unicorn's neck.

"What is it, 'Nora?"

"I don't know...it feels...profound...wild, untamed, and loyal. What's going on?!"

"I feel it too, only it feels...healing. Like a wave of cold, clear water just washed over me, and left me changed... changed and whole...as if...as if...as if He came back..." Susan replied. The Unicorn mare nuzzled her partner, and teleported to the Lichamere to speak with Marcalumourne.

Marcus lay quietly by the Unicorn stallion, pondering all that had happened. His Partner wouldn't tell him anything, nothing at all. Suddenly, the air shimmered, and a Unicorn mare appeared, a woman standing by her. Marcus wanted to flee. He couldn't face Susan now, not here!

_:Hush, Marcus. I am here. She will not harm you.:_

_:I wish I could believe you,:_ Marcus replied.

"Marcus?" Susan asked quietly. "Marcus is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me," he replied, head down.

"Why? Why did you leave me like that?!" Susan barked, grasping for his shirt. She slapped him across the face, then hauled him close to her. She held him close, embracing him, weeping into his shoulder. She fell to her knees, dragging him down, and he willingly held her, feeling greatly confused. She began running her fingers through his hair, kissing his ear and cheek. Then she worked her way up to his mouth, and he kissed back just as fiercely as she kissed him. "I love you, Marcus," she murmured into his ear. He held her closely, rubbing her back and offering all the comfort he could. The two Unicorns looked at each other, and shimmered from the room, leaving the two humans alone.

"Susan," he whispered softly.

"Yes, love?" she replied.

"Will you marry me?" he asked. She looked at him, nodded slightly, and smiled.

"Of course I will!" she said quietly. They then began to kiss again, holding each other tightly. "I love you, Marcus," she murmured, holding him in her arms.

Casabanora gazed at the upcoming space station, and looked at Marcalumourne. He eyed the five mile tin can with a strange look in his eye.

"'Nora, both of our Bonded's lived and worked here for a time. Do you think they will be anxious to return?"

"I really don't know, Marcal. I really don't know. But in any case, we have to find a group of people strong enough to repel the Eilie, and so the point is moot. I sure hope we are not making a mistake here."

"So do I. I wonder if it is too late to tell our Bonded's that we are headed for Babylon 5 at the moment?"

"They probably don't want visitors at the moment."

"Very true. Well, it's now or never. By the Callers, we must be right in this!" Casabanora kicked the bulkhead in her frustration, the long war with the Eilie coming to bear on her nerves. She gazed out of the window, trying her best to keep her skin from itching with nerves.

Susan gently rolled over on the thick mattress, bringing Marcus with her.

"Thank God you came back," she whispered. He held her close, kissing her cheek gently.

"That was amazing, Susan," he murmured. She smiled, truly smiled, and kissed him thoroughly.

_:Susan, we are coming up on Babylon 5. You two should be ready to disembark in two hours.:_

_:Is there anything special we should wear, being Caller and Caller's Soul Mate?:_

_:Yes. A pure white robe for each of you, both of them mobile. Yours has golden embroidery along the cuffs and collar, while Marcus' is far more elaborate and with silver embroidery and other accessories. They are in the closet. You will disembark with us, on our backs, in all glory. I will be wearing a golden saddle and halter, as well as mane and tail bells. Marcalumourne's will be silver.: _

_:Sounds elaborate.:_

_:It will be. Well, we need you two to get ready. We will be disembarking in two hours.: _Casabanora cut the telepathic connection, and Susan stood to help Marcus into the Caller's robe, and get ready to return to Babylon 5.

Celebwen Telcontar: Well, that's that. What did you think? Leave a review please! I don't know when I'll review next, but it hopefully won't be too long. Please, no flames. Otherwise I'll be forced to let the Balrog take over, and flame you right back. And that won't be pleasant, I can assure you. Please leave a nice review. Thank you.

C. Telcontar.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Please, don't throw things at me! I was… occupied!**_

_**Balrog: With what?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Schoolwork, work work, and other FFN stories!**_

_**Balrog: So you just left the rest of us all dangling here! You are… so… uhhh… **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Disposable?**_

**_Balrog: Not precicely the word I was looking for. Infuriating! That's the word! By the way, you don't own Babylon 5, do you?_**

_**Celebwen Telcontar: No. Nor B-1,2,3,or the time traveling B-4. Please review people. It's the little periwinkle button down by the bottom of the page to the left. Please leave me a nice fat review. And if you flame me, I'll be forced to have Balrog flame you right back. Is that understood? Good.**_

"So, Zach, what's new?" Lochley asked.

"A Down Below cult."

"A…_cult_? As in 'end of the world in fire and brimstone' sort of thing?"

"Close enough. But these people say Arthur will return in our hour of greatest need."

"The British already say that. What's new?"

"They've set off the Down Below fire alarms at least ten times, and I've thrown at least thirty of them off station."

"For what?"

"A lot of them smuggle in dry Earth herbs, and the cult burns them."

"They burn dry herbs?" Lochley asked, skeptical.

"They say it helps them interpret dreams."

"_Captain, I thought I should let you know, but President Sheridan and Vice President Delenn just checked in at customs."_

"Thank you. So what's the basis of this cult?"

"The return of King Arthur."

"Oh, great. A bunch of people trying to burn down the station for King Arthur's return. Did you have anything like this when Sheridan was captain?"

"Garibaldi found a cult on Grey 17, and a nutcase, Michael Jankowski, posed as King Arthur arrayed in chain mail and carrying a sword."

"Good god. What happened to Jankowski?"

"Our resident ranger at the time, Marcus Cole, managed to convince him to go to medlab, where Stephen managed to get him out—after he gave his sword to Delenn."

"Well—"

"_Captain, Mr. Garibaldi and Dr. Franklin just checked in at customs."_

"Great. How long until the station blows up?"

"Well, to get your mind off of almost the entire Army of Light command staff on board, I've been having strange dreams. If I wasn't already here, I'd come."

""Strange dreams, eh, Zach? That's what drove Delenn and I here in the first place. What were your dreams?" President Sheridan said, coming in with Delenn.

"Figure in medieval armor riding a horse through the station, calling that he is Arthur and has returned."

"Yep. That's like ours."

"What's up, Captain?"

"Mr. Garibaldi. How… nice to see you."

"Hello. Something told me to come here."

"Join the club. Hello, Stephen."

"_Captain… uh… there are two people at customs with two horse-sized bird-cats, two Unicorns in gold and silver décor, and the man's supposed to be… well… dead; the other is Captain Ivanova of the Avalon. What do I do with them?"_

"Who is he?"

"_Ranger Marcus Cole."_ That sentence started mayhem in Captain Lochley's office. Stephen started muttering to himself, John and Delenn stared at each other, Michael grabbed Captain Lochley's hand and yelled at the customs office, and Lochley just rested her head on her free hand.

"Why me?" she muttered. "Mr. President, you didn't have anything like this happen when you wee captain, did you?"

"We sent Jeff back in time, and then I was lost in time. Then I was resurrected. But nothing else major happened."

Silverwing's talons scratched and clicked on the bulkhead as the gryphon walked next to Susan. Casabanora walked on the other side, her hooves chiming musically. Marcus walked in between Silversong and the former Babylon 5 commander, his hand intertwined with Susan's.

"You've returned!" a worker cried. "My King, how may I serve you?"

"What is your name?"

"Jacob Stone, Your Majesty." Stone bowed deeply, and was joined by at least ten others who all said they knew King Arthur would return. Word spread like wildfire, and people of every age and race were walking behind Susan, Marcus, Casabanora, Marcalumourne, Silversong, and Bronzewing, singing hastily composed songs about the long-awaited return of King Arthur.

_Long Live the King! May the Lord of Camelot have an eternal reign!_

_The Lord of Camelot shall one day return,_

_Foretold in the fumes of the sage we burn,_

_Ad his reign shall be forever blessed,_

_For the King of Camelot has returned to us!_

Another song started, one modeled after one of JRR Tolkien's songs of Middle-Earth.

_An ancient king there was of old, _

_a shining star by day,_

_His mantle white was hemmed in gold, _

_his shoes of silver gray_

_A star was bound about his brows, _

_A light was on his hair_

_As sun upon the golden boughs_

_Of Camelot the fair._

_His hair was long, his limbs were white, _

_And fair he was and free;_

_And in the wind he rode as light_

_As leaf of Linden tree._

_Beside the stones of Avalon,_

_By water clear and cool,_

_His voice as falling silver fell_

_Into the shining pool_

_Where now he wanders none can tell,_

_In sunlight or in shade,_

_For lost of yore was King Arthur,_

_And in the mountains strayed._

_Yet once again he shall return,_

_In our hour of greatest need,_

_To lead us far to greater times,_

_High upon his royal steed_

The songs caused Lochley to rub her temple. Michael stared out the doorway, Delenn and John waiting with baited breath.

"What's going on?" Stephen asked.

"The Arthurian cult. It sounds like half the station is coming to your office, Captain," Zach replied.

"An Arthurian cult? You have an Arthurian cult, Customs found Marcus alive and with two Gryphons and a pair of Unicorns, the entire Army of Light command staff is here, what's next?"

There was a clattering of silvery hooves on the bulkhead, and the two Unicorns, the Gryphons, and Susan and Marcus barreled into the room.

"Good God, I don't think I can survive any more of that!" Marcus cried. The Gryphons screeched at the crowd, now singing horribly off-key and without any identifiable words.

"SHUT UP!" Lochley screamed over the horrendous din. The Gryphons fell silent, but the crowd continued to squawk their 'songs' out at the tops of their lungs. Now it sounded as if they were singing all different songs, and so off-key that it made the Gryphon's lay their ear tufts back and squint in pain.

"SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!" Marcus roared. The cult fell silent.

"Thank you, Caller," the gold and brown gryphon said with immense gratitude.

"You're welcome, Bronzewing."

"John, before we go any further, I must tell you what we are up against. The Eilie are a power beyond comprehension, a hunger beyond understanding... they are anti-life itself. Every member of the Eilie race is telepathic, and they can make someone fight for them. They want to destroy all life other then themselves, believing that all other life is inferior and must be exterminated. The Vorlons had a brush with the Eilie before, and almost didn't survive. The Eilie, before arriving, prey on the weaknesses of those they can manipulate, on those that they can madden. We also had a brush with the Eilie, and we almost didn't survive."

"The artifact you brought in from Hyperspace…"

"Precisely. The Eilie are what were in it. The People, the Unicorns, Gryphons, Elves, all the Mythical people, are the sworn enemies of the Eilie. It is said that only the Caller's forces can defeat them."

"There is a prophecy among the People, set down by Tirgwaith Iarwain, the People's Protector. He was an ancient Unicorn, saying that the Eilie had to be thrown back twice by those other than the People before the Caller would Summon the People and those who threw the Eilie back to finally force the Gorgûlmorfëa back. The Prophecy said:

"Thou whom dwelleth with the Spirit of a Unicorn inside of himself shall be named thy Caller. He shall rally thee who believed they to be Divinities, and thee who live in the Mithril Land. Their might shall force back the Gorgûlmorfëa, and thy Darkness shall sleep once again. Never shall they die, for should they die, so shall the Balance. If they die, Life, the Balance, shall thus die. The Gorgûlmorfëa are the Opposite of Life, and so to have Life you must have Death. For one to have Happiness, one must also have Sorrow. There is always a Balance. The Caller of that time will have the Spirit inside of him to rally the people under one banner, and shall also have the goodness of heart to be a Unicorn. He shall know all, and all who oppose Him and His Forces, gathered under His Banner, shall Despair."

"Damn!" John cried. "This again. We almost didn't survive last time…"

"That is why the Caller is here," Marcalumourne said.

"Will you be getting the Vorlons here, Marcus?"

"Yes, I will. We will send a ship out, telling the First Ones that the Eilie are back. But you heard Tirgwaith Iarwain's Prophecy, kill them and you kill yourself. Kill the Anti-Life, and you kill Life. Everything must be done in Moderation. Everything has a Balance. To have love, you must have loneliness."

"Oooo-kay," Michael said, completely confused.

"The people who believe themselves to be the only true force of Life are back?" Delenn asked, beginning to comprehend everything. The Unicorns nodded. The crowd outside was deadly silent, hardly making even a movement.

"Just when things get simple around here, something goes and blows it all up."

"Don't be so optimistic, Zach," Lochley muttered.

"My Lord Caller," Bronzewing said, "These people are rather well tied to you. It would be wise to use them in the war against the Eilie."

"You are right, Bronzewing. Captain, Mr. President, we have to see to these people. The Caller will make sure that they are put to a good use. You will have to join us, as when someone hears the Call for the People of Myth and Legend, they _become_ one of the people. Those who do not hear the Call of the People will hear the Call of the Eilie. And they will Answer, as they did when you, Caller's High General Ivanova, had a brush with the Eilie at first." The crowd parted as Casabanora finished her speech, and a woman with short red hair walked through as if she was being possessed.

"Lyta... Lómransil..." Bronzewing whispered. It was amazing that he could force speech that was not falconine from his massive beak, but he somehow did. He walked up, and locked eyes with Lyta. Susan felt him Bonding with her, and soon Lyta was having a much less troubled expression on her face, and she stroked the Gryphon's feathers. The creature fluffed his feathers and gave a loud purr.

"Okay... what was that?" Zach asked.

"Bronzewing just Bonded to her. He'll be her friend at all times. Much like Marcus and I have Casabanora and Marcalumourne. He'll be very good to her."

"Interesting. So what does this mean for my station?" Lochley asked.

"What does _what_ mean for my station, Captain?" Susan asked, her tone back to its usual biting chill.

"This. The... Arthurian cult your... husband...?"

"Fiancé, really."

"Okay, the cult your fiancé and you seem to run that takes up half the station. You seem to have somehow recruited the President, First Lady, Dr. Franklin, Michael Garibaldi, and my security chief as well. How do you do that and what does it mean for the station?"

"The people who are Called by the People are to go into a sort of militant force to help us against the Eilie. The people will see to it that all have occupations in the Caller's Militia that flatter their lifestyles and strengths while trying to keep them from preying on their own weaknesses. It isn't easy, and having a Bondmate helps with the force, since they lend an ear and are already through the Training."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What training?"

"Training for the Caller's Militia, of course."

"And that entails?"

"That one give up their current station in life to be given a rigorous training program. They will be taught to use both mental and physical powers. I survived with no problems, save a few lost feathers. Most two-legers would easily survive."

"Silversong, the only two legers who have gone through the training program are Elves, Wizards, Witches, and Dwarves. Not modern day humans and those in the same Galaxy of the humans."

"I am sorry for the misconception, My Lady Caller's High General."

"Marcus and Susan will both have to go through the training program as well. Personally, I think Marcus will do better, having been through the Ranger training. And Delenn will be a wonderful asset to us," Casabanora said. Silversong nearly raked her with open talons for the fact that she didn't use their titles instead of their names.

_:My Lady Caller's High General:_ a telepathic voice said in Susan's mind.

_:Yes, Comadan:_

_:Most of the Galaxy is here to pay homage to you and the Caller.:_

_:Give me a break! How many races:_

_:All, including the _Fëaband_, and they all want to join our forces. It's not nearly everyone in the galaxy, but it's a little less then half.:_

_:We have the _Soul Hunters_ on our side! When did _that_ piece of insanity happen:_

_:There are not many Soul Hunters, only those who admit to have made a mistake with the planet Ralga.:_

"Captain, do you know anything about the planet Ralga and some Soul Hunter mistake?"

"Soul Hunter mistake? All the... Wait... Captain, what about that guy with Michael's friend Bryson?"

"Yes, that was Ralga. Why?"

"My Commander, Comadan, has just informed me that a delegation from every planet in the galaxy, including a few Soul Hunters, is parked outside of the station wanting to get into the Caller's Militia."

"Ye Gods!" Casabanora said quietly. She tossed her mane, and looked at Lochley.

"Will you join us? I know that the Command Staff has felt the Caller's Call; not the Eilie's. Vir Cotto, the Centauri Ambassador, has, in the past, felt the Call of the Eilie, but now he feels the Call of the Caller."

"Okay... so can you explain this... 'Call'?" Michael Garibaldi asked.

"Did you not feel it yourself?"

"I can't explain why I'm here... I don't know myself... but... Can you explain this...thing?"

"Well... I'll try. It's a sort of... compulsion, if you will. Given to you by the People. Perhaps the best way to say this is to take Vir Cotto here and to have him recall what he felt..."

"It was a sort of a city in my dreams, when the Eilie tried to bring me to them. I could feel their evil, but it was nearly impossible to resist. I somehow managed to remain sane, but it was a hard task," Susan said.

"That's it. Perfectly said... only with the People it's not an evil presence, but there's a presence of purity and grace, joy and life." Silverwing said, trying to explain.

"Hmm."

"We'll join," John said. Michael looked at him as if he were insane.

**_Celebwen Telcontar: I'm sorry for dragging on like this, again, but hopefully this will make up for it! And please review, people. I love reviews! Reviews are my lifeblood!_**


	3. Chapter 3

Top of Form

_**Celebwen Telcontar: The plot belongs to me. Everything you recognize belongs to someone else.**_

_**Balrog: I see. Well, get on with it! I want to see how this goes! **_

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The PAS _Cordenia_, the prototype for the much smaller version of the Warbirds the People used, rocketed through space. The design was that of a swan or a much smaller phoenix than the Warbirds.

"Approaching jumpgate," Dorenda, the Valkyerie captain, called. "By Brynhild!" Dorenda gasped.

"What is it?" Marcus asked.

"My Lord Caller, there is an Eilie vessel tailing us!"

"Use evasive maneuvers!" Susan barked. The ship dodged, using an intelligence that was uncannily akin to the organic vessels the Vorlons and Shadows used. The jumpgate came online, and the _Cordenia_ dodged into Hyperspace. Dorenda sighed in relief.

"Good," she breathed. "The Eilie use a different… frequency, you could say, of Hyperspace. Our contact is in the space of Sigma Nine Five Seven. He has been approached by an offshoot of the People, or rather, and offshoot of a race the People affected, long ago, and who, as a race, have been looking for us for millions of years." Dorenda fiddled with some of her controls. "The Eilie simulation ended when we entered Hyperspace, by the way. And I would personally like to thank you, my Lord Caller, because you have given us technology for Red Hyperspace jump points. Previously, we only had access to Green and Blue, and the Eilie, to the best of our knowledge, only has Green. And I'm babbling now, so I'm going to shut up." True to her word, Dorenda fell silent as the rest of the bridge attempted to stifle their laughter. Susan smiled slightly.

"About how long until we reach Sigma Nine Five Seven?" she asked.

"Ten hours at best guess, My Lady." Susan glanced sidelong at her fiancé, who accompanied her off of the bridge.

As soon as they reached their quarters, Susan began to kiss Marcus, gently at first, then with more passion, each helping the other out of their respective uniforms.

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The older man rested in his quarters, disappointed yet again. The floating cities, the music, the passion, pain, joy and despair the parasite had given him was not eclipsed by the wonders of the galaxy.

Without warning, one of his walls became hot and glowed brightly. Then, in form the glowing patch of metal a great bird formed.

It was the size of an eagle, and looked vaguely like a graceful mixture of a swan and a peacock, the colors all those of bright flame. It fanned its wings and hopped to the headboard of his bed. The symbiotic creature he had hosted for a time had told him of such wondrous creatures!

_:Hello, Duncan:_ the bird said into his mind. Duncan jumped.

"Who are you?" he asked.

_:Your partner. My name is Thoronar. Come, there are more People like me on the _Cordenia_. Allow me to bear you there; our Lord Caller has set aside quarters for you. You shall see wonders beyond your imagining: _Thoronar said, fanning its wings._ :Will you come:_

"I will," Duncan said. The bird took his shoulders in its talons, and Duncan was cast into a maelstrom of color and flame, to be delivered to a large room, where his weariness from searching for the magnificent people shown to him by the symbiotic creature bore him down, and he fell into an unconscious state.

The next thing he knew, an accented voice was speaking softly into his ear.

"'The gracious Duncan, asleep by the gate. Methinks I hear a voice cry, "Sleep no more." Marcus does murder sleep.'" Duncan turned and stood, Thoronar by his side, uttering a sharp whistle of welcome.

"You're a madman, you know," Duncan said to the dark-haired man.

"Such has been said," Marcus replied. "It's good to see you, Duncan!" A woman in the room bowed.

"My Lord Caller," she murmured before departing.

"Who is she? Why did she bow to you?" Duncan asked.

_:He is the Caller. The closest thing we have to a monarch:_ Thoronar explained. There was a chiming from behind Duncan, who turned.

The creature was about the size of an Earth deer. A delicate and long neck supported a supremely graceful vaguely equine head; a leonine tail was held daintily at its side. A quatrain of long, graceful legs ended in silver cloven hooves. From between the creature's large, dark eyes thrust a horn, three feet long at least, as white as its coat. Duncan fell to his knees before the unicorn, who looked shocked.

"It's alright, Duncan. He's my Partner, Marcalumourne. 'Mourne, please meet my old friend Duncan."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," the stallion said. Unlike Thoronar, Marcalumourne spoke vocally, his voice deep and bell-like with a hint of a British accent. "Marcus, we should turn around. The _Cabanunal_ and the _Lichamere _will be waiting for your presence. It would not be prudent to be late for your won wedding, after all!" Marcus chuckled, then closed his eyes. The ship lurched slightly.

"What was that!" Duncan cried. Thoronar chirped, not expecting the move.

"The ship is merely turning around. Being modeled after a bird does have its disadvantages." Marcalumourne glared at Marcus, and a soft chuckle wafted down the hallway. A woman in a blue vest and black shirt, trousers and boots came down the hall, another unicorn beside her.

"Marcus, Corwin just contacted us. They're in a mess. Literally."

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Centauri Emperor Londo Mollari stood at the window in the viewing dome. As always, he was severely depressed, which was mainly due to the fact that his position was basically to be a puppet to the Drakh, and the near-demolition of his home planet. Now he was supposed to break up the Caller's alliance. The Drakh-placed Keeper sitting on his shoulder kept the Drakh up to date on what he did, and his people or himself would pay the price for deviation from the marching orders he had been given.

Suddenly, the ship lurched. Londo fell with a strangled cry, the Keeper sending waves of disorientation through his brain. Vir, Londo's former aid and the Centauri Prime Minister, was by his side in seconds, the guards trying to stagger to their feet and the two Centauri telepaths who always were with the Emperor having similar difficulties of balance and coordination.

"Londo, are you alright?" Vir asked, worry evident in his face. The ship lurched again, causing Vir to fall and a few guards to curse roundly as they fell in heaps. The people all slid with the ship's tilt, smashing into the far wall in a disorganized jumble.

"Great Maker!" Londo cursed, the Keeper in a state of near-panic.

"It's almost like we're employing evasive maneuvers," Vir cried. Then, out of one of the windows, everyone saw it. A bird, a great metal bird the size of Babylon 5, was attacking the Centauri vessel. The ship lurched yet again, and Londo's left shoulder slammed into a doorframe with enough force to shatter the bone. In that moment, the Keeper, the parasite implanted into Londo's very nervous system, was disabled and knocked unconscious. Londo knew better than to think that it was dead.

Suddenly, Londo saw the enormous bird's beak close about the ship. Vir yelled something incoherent about them all being digested, some comment thrown in by a guard about a Pak'mar'a.

The unmistakable sounds of them docking froze his blood. Had he been temporarily rid of the Keeper only to be killed by whoever owned the strange ship?

"Londo!" Vir cried. "What is that _thing_ on your shoulder!"

"A Keeper. The Drakh made me take it. Vir, if we survive this, you _must_ promise to kill me and become emperor when we grow strong enough to defeat the Drakh!"

"But Londo—!"

"Promise me, Vir!"

"Londo—!"

"Vir!"

"Alright!" Vir cried, obviously distressed. "But why—?"

"Understanding is not required, only obedience, as your Minbari friends say."

"Hir i Erein! Hir i Erein!" (**_Find the King! Find the King!_**) a lilting and beautiful voice cried.

"Gurth i ryg!" (**_Death (to) the demons!_**) another voice yelled. The door opened. "Ai na vedui i Erein!" (**_O (it) is (at) last the King!_**) The being on the other side of the door looked relatively human, but his/her platinum blonde hair had been tied back in a long braid about his/her head like a crown. His/her ears were relatively leaf-shaped, and his/her eyes could bore right into your very soul and know all that was there.

"Londo…?" Vir asked, standing in between the person and the Emperor.

"All fears to rest are laid, Vircotto. Come, speak-minds, King, Vircotto. Be hurt not you will. Crelnea am I."

"Wh-what are you, Crelnea?" Vir asked.

"Elf, lower. Come." The Lower Elf led the group, some of the guards still bickering, to a massive hallway outside of the ship they had been in, then into an equally monolithic room. Beds of every shape and size were scattered about the room, some of them being large nests. Huge alcoves lined the walls, large enough to house the Earth cathedral Notre Dame.

"Down you will lay," a black-haired Lower Elf said sternly. "Rhunalva, tul si!" (**_Rhunalva, come here!_**) A strange creature came up, along with a youngish woman. "Narquesse, ortanorë i Ereino." (**_Featherfire, lift up the King's heart._**)

"Aye." (**_Yes._**) the young woman said softly. She placed her head on either side of Londo's head. "Gurth, Raugo hen!" (**_Die, demon's eye!_**) she barked. The white creature touched the Keeper with his horn, and Londo felt it die. He then felt it unwind from his nervous system, and fall off. He breathed a sigh of relief, and the black haired Lower Elf took it away, possibly to study it.

_:Londo Mollari: _a voice said in his mind. _:You are now free! The monster's hold on you is gone:_ The white creature gently touched its horn to Londo's broken shoulder. The flash of pain was far worse than the shattering in and of itself, and Londo screamed with the agony.

"Lissen ye lot!" a playful, fun-loving yet very worried voice chattered. "Back away!" Snorts and exasperated sounds came from the staff of what was obviously a medical bay. A black… thing looking somewhat like a cross between an Earth monkey and Draal's helpers, the Zathras', came bounding in.

"A Phooka. How… convenient," the woman grumbled sarcastically. Somehow, he could now understand everyone.

"What's a Phooka?" he asked.

"One of the most annoying creatures you will ever meet." The Zathras-monkey was covered in ebony fur, and its face somewhat like an Earth rabbit or llama, its eyes yellow like an Earth cat, yet not slit-pupiled. It turned its head completely upside down, shocking Londo with its extreme flexibility.

"What _are_ you!" Londo asked.

"Iiiiiii'maPhooka!" the Phooka said jovially. Londo groaned. He could tell that this creature wouldn't leave him alone. The Phooka pulled a face, its head still upside down, obviously trying to make Londo laugh. The Emperor snorted mirthlessly, glaring at the Phooka.

"What is your name?" Londo asked.

"I am flattered you asked! My name is Bochren. Call me 'Ren. I am your partner. You need more light in your life, Londo, more humor, less darkness and despair."

"And I suppose you can change that?" Londo asked sardonically.

"I can certainly try."

"Amazing," the black haired being that was treating him said. "A Phooka who knows how to be serious!"

"Ha! What makes you so sure of that?" Bochren asked. The black-haired being groaned and rolled his/her eyes.

"You are well enough to leave this place for the time being. But I want a check up every two weeks. Come, we must go to Babylon 5!" the door opened, and Vir and the telepaths entered at a run.

"Londo!" Vir cried in relief. "You're alright!"

"I have a feeling that I will be better than alright soon enough! And the order to kill me is rescinded."

"Good!" Vir exclaimed. Bochren laughed jovially.

"What…?" Vir asked, staring at the Phooka.

"its name is Bochren, and it's a Phooka."

"I am not an 'it'!" Bochren mock-fumed. "I am a male Phooka." He turned his back on the group, flicking his tail in irritation.

"Well, _his_ name is Bochren and _he's _a Phooka!" Londo snapped in return. Bochren laughed and soon had Vir laughing along with him.

"I think Bochren will be very good for you," Vir said, smiling.

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Captain Lochley pounded the gavel on the desk. When the multitude of clamoring races wouldn't shut up, a feral shriek from Lyta's Partner worked wonders.

"We cannot form the Alliance until the Caller returns from testing the new ship," Captain Lochley rasped.

"When will he return!" a Soul Hunter demanded. That started the clamoring all over again. The guards in the room, taken from the ever-increasing ranks of the Arthurian cult, all shouted as one : "**_SHUT UP!_**" Silence fell like a curtain. For a few minutes. Then Londo Mollari, the Centauri Emperor, Vir Cotto, the Centauri Prime Minister, a few guards, the customary two Centauri telepaths and a black-furred _thing_ which looked like an arcane cross between Zathras and an Earth monkey entered.

"I would like to sign the Centauri to the Caller's Alliance," Londo declared.

"Your Excellency," Lochley began. "You cannot do that at this moment because the Caller is away."

"Well, where _is_ he!" Londo barked.

"Testing a new ship. He should be back soon."

"How soon is 'Soon?'" Londo asked.

"Soon," a Vorlon replied.

"Baaah!" Londo grumbled.

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Bochren stood at his Partner's elbow, chattering incessantly with the worn out Centauri emperor.

"Will you be quiet!" Londo finally growled at the Phooka. The black-furred creature turned his head upside down and gazed at Londo, not stopping the flow of speech and jokes, most of them lame.

"No," Bochren replied between two jokes. "How many Centauri does it take—No, not that one! Did you hear that Cartagia's library burned down? It was a real tragedy. Both books ere burned, and the real horror of it was that Cartagia hadn't finished coloring the second one yet…" Londo had no choice but to give a disgruntled snort of half-hearted amusement, to which Bochren whooped in triumph before dancing ludicrously about the entire room, most likely shocking the majority of the alliance petitioners. An irritated black Earth horse with seaweed tangled into its mane kicked at Bochren, and was rewarded by the overenthusiastic Phooka leaping nimbly over it, laughing the whole time.

"How are you feeling, Emperor?" a sweet female voice asked. Londo turned to find the creature that had been with him during the dubious time when the Keeper had died. "My name is Rhunalva, and I am a Healer. Well, all Unicorns are Healers, but I've devoted my entire life to Healing. So I ask you again. How are you feeling? And please be honest."

"I'm…well…I feel _alive_, if you know what I mean. I can't even remember when I felt so good!"

But you have a guilty conscience. Alas, not even a master Healer can soothe such a wound. Rest, be free. The demon is dead. No such creature borne from the depths of Hell can be touched by a Unicorn's horn and live."

"thank you, Lady," Londo said, nodding deeply to her.

"Now, do you feel any stiffness or lack of correct movement in your shoulder from where you shattered it?"

"No. It is as good as new." The Emperor moved his shoulder around.

"Good. Very good. I will need to return you the _Cabanunal_ in a while, but after I do, I will make sure a full medical team is with you at all times. Your shoulder was greatly out of place, and most of the bone was forcibly shattered. It was one of the hardest Healings I have performed. Also, please allow Bochren to cheer you up. He may be irritating, but he has a very good heart. Laugh, Londo. Be joyous. The demon who watched over you is dead." The unicorn mare, the wisest and kindest person Londo had spoken to since becoming Emperor, saver perhaps Vir, turned and wove her way through the throng. Londo watched her retreat with a considerably lighter heart.

"Ahhh!" someone cried. A shaggy black Earth-horse capered good-naturedly to a halt by Londo. As it morphed back into the Phooka, Londo chuckled.

"Is there anything you _cannot_ do?" he asked, already feeling more cheerful. Bochren turned his head upside down, crouched into an impossibly tiny bundle, then began rolling around, laughing. Londo laughed with him, well on the path to recovery.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The _Cordenia _glided into the docking bay, perched on the lift, and folded her wings. Commander David Corwin was dreading telling Security Chief Allen just who and _what_ was on the ship. Already on station, and causing Security a nightmare, were (gulp!) the President and Vice President of the Inter Stellar Alliance, the Centauri Prime Minister, the most important political and religious figure of Narn since G'Quan, a member of the Minbari Grey Council, the Narn ISA ambassador, "Mr. Garibaldi" of Edgars-Garibaldi (He alone was terrifying enough, thank you!), the most powerful telepath ever born (Shudder!), four Vorlons, four Soul-hunters, four Technomages, innumerable First Ones (Fall over, twitch twice, hope to stay dead), the Shai Alit of each Caste of the Minbari, the Clan Leader of each Warrior Caste clan (Corwin didn't even want to go there—at all!), a respected member of the Narn Ka'ri, the Entil'zha of the Rangers, several creatures thought to be simply myths and legends from everywhere, someone Corwin was sure was a **_God_**, and the Centauri Emperor and Entourage!

Corwin knew several of these people had lived on Babylon 5, but that didn't lessen the impact of them all returning at the same time. For Lochley, it was certainly an oncoming aneurism! For the Security staff, it was a political and security _nightmare._ Corwin hoped nothing even remotely exciting happened here. Then the _Cordenia_ docked.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The security officers were in a calm state of shock from the current visitors to Babylon 5. The hatch opened and a creature almost half the size of the transport stepped out.

Golden eyes gleamed from beneath scaly brow ridges. Nostrils large enough to roast a full Christmas turkey with room to spare glowed with a red-orange light. A pearly blue-green hide gleamed in the electric light. Tightly folded red-orange wings matched a crest frill. Silver-white talons, as long as a man's forearm, matched equally deadly dagger teeth. A vaguely equine head was perched upon a graceful swan-like neck. The security officers stood frozen with terror in their now-damp trousers.

"You are the security staff from Babylon 5, are you not?" the dragon asked.

"D-d-dragon," an officer whispered.

"Yes, I know what I am. My question is: are you the security staff of Babylon 5?" the dragon asked, a hint of irritation in her voice. "Quenuvalye i lamber Eldareva?" (**_Thou canst speak the tongues of the Elves?_**) she said. "Dost thou speakest English? Apparently not." The dragon looked behind her. "My Lord Caller, I would like to speak to these people."

"They can speak English," an accented voice said. "Now we just need to get to the council chamber. Come along." The man who stepped out was well known. Marcus Cole. The security guards fainted.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_**Celebwen Telcontar: So, how was that?**_

_**Balrog: Don't ask. I'm still laughing! The way those guards must look!**_

Top of Form


	4. Chapter 4

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here we are. Another chapter.**_

_**Balrog: And how long did it take you?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Sorry about the time. Please enjoy! As usual, I don't own Babylon 5 or anything else you recognize. Thanks.**_

_**CT**_

* * *

Winddancer snorted as she glided through the stratosphere, her wings buffeting her higher and higher as she flew. Every minute spent looking for her Bonded and not Bonding with her soul-sibling was wasted. The light that emanated from the human's soul was smothered, banked, blanketed. But Winddancer would reverse that. As she dove down to Geneva, she angled her wings to give her maximum velocity. People screamed, and they dodged. She opened her talons, sighting the edge of the glass building. She caught the edge, but the flimsy material gave under her weight, and it fell. She grasped at the air with her wings, flapping her tail to regain balance, and roared her panic. A jet of white-hot fire melted the glass fragments as she tried to stay stable. She failed and pumped her wings, trying to slow herself down enough so she wouldn't hit the ground at such high velocity. The buffeting of her wings drove bits of semi-melted glass and debris everywhere, including into people and cars. People poured out of the building she had accidentally demolished, guns drawn and ready.

_:What are you?: _a voice, cold and hard, thrust into her mind.

_:I am a European Mountain Dragon. You?:_

_:A—A dragon?: _the voice gasped. Winddancer lifted her head and shot forth a blast of white-hot flames. The human gulped and stumbled back.

_:Are you here for anyone?:_

_:Yes. Talia Winters, if she is available.:_

_:I'm sure she is,: _the human stammered. He seemed to be less sure of himself now than he had been before. The other humans were milling about Winddancer. One had shot a PPG blast at her, and she shrugged it off, no more an annoyance than a stray drop of water. She turned her head though, and opened her mouth. A jet of white-hot flame burst from the cavernous maw just over the annoying Psi-Cop's heads. The telepaths yelped and rushed inside; at least the ones who were conscious. Winddancer shifted restlessly, moving her tail to gather all of the fallen humans into one large pile. They'd probably be easier to deal with that way.

The door opened, and a woman stepped out. Her golden hair was cropped in a short, unfashionable style and scars ran through it over her scalp. Her clothes were nothing but a medical gown, and she trailed IV leads.

"What the Hell do you need me for, beast?" she snarled. Winddancer gripped the tattered remnants of her former personality in her mental "hands" and re-shaped it into a real personality, shattering and scattering the false one, sending the P5 telepath into a deep coma at the same time. Talia fell with a thud to the ground, and Winddancer ordered one of the newly-awakened fainting victims to take out her IV leads and dress her into something more modest.

_:Thank you,: _Winddancer said grudgingly to the people, then grabbed her Bonded in gentle talons and launched herself to the nearest spaceport.

* * *

Michael Garibaldi yelled as a creature in the control panel screeched. It went flying out, a small bundle of singed fur and a mischievous smile the size of a large melon. It laughed uproariously, hitting the wall with a thud and leaving a streak of blackened… something.

"Hey! You!" he cried, trying to get control over the situation. He ran after the mischief-maker, and skidded on some drooled saliva decorating the floor with a yell. The goblin cackled manically, and dodged into a wall panel. Michael peeled himself off the ground with a groan, and stared at the small hole the goblin had wriggled into. He heard a security officer screaming, and ran to investigate, only to have his knees knocked out from under him by mischievous goblins.

"That is _it_!!" the officer snarled. "I am transferring to IO! No more mythical creatures or anything else! Do you hear me, you rabid squirrel?!"

"Yep-yep-yep! Bye-bye!" the goblin crowed. The security officer screeched in indignity.

"Hi-hi," a voice piped up at Michael's knee. He saw a goblin with a pig-like nose on a face that would look better on a gorilla. "You funny."

"I'm funny, huh?" Michael asked the goblin.

"Yep-yep-yep-yep-yep-yep!" The goblin grinned at him, revealing snaggly teeth and a black tongue. _Bad dental hygiene,_ Michael thought, trying to get out of the way of the creature's halitosis. "You mine!" The goblin leapt on him, hugging him about the waist. Michael groaned. "Me Skeet!"

"Get the hell off of me!" Michael snarled, trying to remove Skeet's arms from about his waist. The goblin laughed, scrambling up to the former Babylon 5 security chief's shoulder. "Get off!"

"Nope-nope! You mine!"

"What do you mean?" Michael grunted, trying to get a hold of the wriggling goblin's body.

"You mine! You my Bond!"

"I'm your Bonded?" Michael asked incredulously. How did he ever get into these situations?! He saw the blackened and singed goblin launch itself at the transferring security officer, gibbering something in its own language. Bits of blackened… something landed on the officer's face. The man yelled and scraped the gunk off of his face, kicking the electrocuted goblin. The creature laughed as it bounced down the corridors, leaving splotches of black goop wherever he landed.

"Michael?" a voice called. He turned, to find Casabanora and Susan approaching.

"Yah, Susan?" he asked tiredly as Skeet clung to his scalp like a leech.

"I see that you have Bonded," Susan said, looking like she was trying not to laugh. The unicorn seemed to chuckle and flicked her tail. "With a goblin. What's its name?"

"Me Skeet!" the goblin, now trying to chew his way through Michael's shirt, crowed. Michael realized what the goblin was doing and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

"Don't chew on anything!" he barked. Skeet smiled, revealing a bit of Michael's shirt in his yellowed teeth.

"It's a lost cause," Casabanora said. "Goblins will chew on anything they can. I've known them to chew right through a bulkhead before."

"They'll chew on metal?" Michael asked, looking at Skeet. The goblin smiled and cackled, wriggling down and bolting over to a loose wire, where he began to gnaw with single-minded determination. Soon, Skeet yelped as he was electrocuted, his ragged fur standing on end and acrid smoke slowly rising from his body. The goblin cackled like a mad thing, ripping two wires out of a nearby electrical panel and sticking them in his ears. He shook and glowed with eerie luminescence as the current surged through him. Michael tried to pry his Bonded away from the volatile electricity, but it was a lost cause. Every time he got close to the insane creature, he was shocked by a good-sized voltage leaping from Skeet's fur. An electrical arc emanating from Skeet's open mouth hit the top of the ceiling, and the hallway went completely dark.

"Blasted goblin," Casabanora grumbled, her horn the only form of light. A spine-tingling groan let everyone know that something else had happened to the station, and it was possibly deteriorating in orbit over Epsilon III.

"What the _Hell_?!" Michael yelped. Other people in the hallway were screaming their confusion as well.

"I take it that you just learned how hazardous it is to be around goblins for any length of time?" Casabanora asked sweetly. "Stand back. Goblin, leave. Go someplace else." Skeet scrambled up Michael's uniform, perching on the former Chief of Security's head. Michael only sighed; things seemed to be getting more and more surreal ever since he left Babylon 5's security force.

A bright beam of light shot forth from Casabanora's horn and impacted into the ruined wall panel. The technological mayhem caused by Skeet exploded and the station trembled.

"I think you should leave this to the experts," Susan said quickly to the unicorn. Casabanora flicked her tail sheepishly.

"I think you're right, horse," Michael snarled. The unicorn aimed another magical beam at the broken wall panel, firing before Michael could do anything about it. "Hey!" The station shook even harder, as if it was in the throes of a quake. The lights came back on and flickered erratically, sparking out in spectacular eruptions.

"Magic and technology do not mix!" Susan yelled at Casabanora. The mare neighed her agreement, dancing out of the way of a falling ceiling panel. Skeet screeched and cowered under Michael's shirt, the former chief of security sighing in resignation. There went another of his good shirts.

"I'm going to tie the power of the Cabanunal and the Lichamere into the station!" Casabanora shouted over the din of falling metal and shorting out bits of technology. The station shivered again, and Susan fell, grasping at her Bonded. Casabanora went down with her, making certain to land under the woman. Suddenly, the station moved about three or four thousand yards, and stopped shaking. The lights came back on, no longer flickering or sending sparks everywhere. Bits of debries righted themselves, the ceiling panel floating up to re-fuse itself to the ceiling. The panel Skeet had destroyed righted itself, the torn and bitten-through wires fixing themselves.

"What the Hell's going on?" Michael breathed. Skeet kicked his back by accident, causing Michael to yelp in shock.

"The power from the People's ships is far greater than the power from the station, Michael," Casabanora said, almost condescendingly. "It is righting the problems caused by the goblins. All of the goblins, besides the few that have Bonded, have gone back to the Cabanunal and the Lichamere."

"Thanks," Michael said, climbing to his feet. Skeet poked his head out from the front of his shirt, giggling softly. Michael absently patted his head. "I hope I wake up soon," the former chief of security grumbled, stalking off.

_:I think we have a problem…: _one of the People called throughout Babylon 5.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Sorry for the long wait until updating and the short update. **_

_**Balrog: What's the problem?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: You'll have to see relatively soon. Please review!**_

_**CT**_


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